


This is Our Last Song

by Spiritmoon23



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Apocalypse, Character Death, End of the World, M/M, Songfic, this is long lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 16:07:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12634518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiritmoon23/pseuds/Spiritmoon23
Summary: The year is 2051My name is Alfred F JonesAnd I am the last one left





	1. Je Suis Un Homme

_"Alfie," he croaked, "Alfie, help me." He collapsed, falling limply to the floor with tears pricking the corners of his eyes._

_Alfred kneeled next to him, holding both of the other's hands in his own. "I'm here, Mattie. I'm here."_

_"Alfred, it hurts. It hurts so bad, Alfie. Make it go away."_

_Canada's face contorted in pain, and his grip on his brother's hands tightened considerabely. Alfred cringed and shuddered, face contorted in a grimace. "Hush, now, and rest your head. It'll be over soon and the pain will go away."_

_"I don't want to leave you."_

_"I don't want you to leave."_

_A moment of silence stretched between the brothers, before the northerner spoke to him again. "Alfred," he muttered, "Sing. Please."_

_He nodded, and quietly started singing an old tune._

_"Je suis un homme de cro-magnon  
Je suis un singe ou un poisson  
Sur la terre, en toute saison  
Moi je tourne en rond, je tourne en rond_

_Je suis un seul puis des millions  
Je suis un homme au cœur de lion  
A la guerre, en toute saison  
Moi je tourne en rond, je tourne en rond..."_

_Quietly, he finished the song, tears beginning to leave tracks down his dirt smudged face. The peaceful look of contentment on his brother's face made him smile a watery smile._

_"Thank you, Alfie."_

_"Don't say goodbye."_

_"I won't."_

\--------

America walked into the old conference room. There was no door left on the old rusted hinges. The windows were all broken, the roof caved in, the walls crumbled and collapsed.

But, the wooden table in the center gleamed, it's surface unblemished and meticulously wiped clean. The podium in the front was in a similar state, as though none of the destruction around it was real.

He walked up to the front of what was the meeting room and set up a small camera on a tripod, pointing at the podium. 

Alfred stepped around the podium and shuffled a few of the papers, as though he were about to give a speech, and smiled into the camera. Then, he started speaking.

"Hello again. My name is Alfred F Jones, also known as the United States of America. And as of today, July 1st, 2051, I am the last known surviving country of World War Three, or the Thermonuclear Storm." His smile broke and he choked on a sob. He looked away from the camera and covered his mouth with the back of his hand. When he had himself under control again, he looked back at the dark lense.

"Today the Canadian Provincial Democracy fell for the last time, and the personification of Matthew Williams officially Faded. Let the records show this to be true.

"That concludes today's entry." He nodded and picked up his papers, moving around to collect his camera once again. For some reason, he stopped before he left, taking one last look around the place. 

"I'll be seeing you again soon, guys," he whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, avoiding as much broken glass and debris as he could, he left just as he had come.

"Hey America, you good?" an accented voice asked.

"Yeah, Dee, I'm good."

"No you're not," she crossed her arms and gave him her signature Don't lie to me look.

He sighed in resignation. "Alright, I'm not so fine. But I will be. That better?"

"That Canadian, he was your brother, right? Didn't you say you both grew up together?"

"Yeah," his voice was hoarse, tears threatening to spill out of him again. "We were raised together by our mother, Native America. She had no name. Then, way back, in the sixteen-hundreds or so, we were found together by a few of the other European countries that were looking to expand to the New World. Ever since then, other than a few decades around my revolution, we've been almost inseparable. And now he's..." Alfred trailed off, unable to bring himself to say that his brother was gone. It would make it too real. "So now, for the first time in my hundreds of years of life, I'll be without him completely. And I don't know if I can do it."

Dee nodded, and wrapped an arm around his middle, guiding him back to the path that lead into the camp. "I know, America. You can live through this. We all can," she tried to reassure him. He seemed to straighten up, becoming just a little bit higher than he had been.

"Yeah, I can. We all can."


	2. Boats and Birds

_“America! You’re late again you bloody twat,” the Brit called to him from where he sat at the table. There was no hint of malice on his bandaged face. Just a sorrowful smile._

_Alfred looked to him wearily. “What’s with the smile, dude? It’s creepin’ me out.” He, too, felt his face crack with the hint of a grin._

_“Ah, America. You are finally here,” a French accent cut it, almost unheard due to it’s quiet. “Please, sit down. We have news for you.”_

_“News?” he asked, confused, “What kind of news? And why am I only just hearing it?”_

_Francis shifted uncomfortably. England supplied the words. “Lad, we love you; have ever since I called you my little brother. But,” His voice broke. “But, this is going to be our final goodbye.”_

_Alfred looked stunned. “W-what do you mean?”_

_“Our people are dead, our governments fallen, and our land destroyed. We are no longer countries, and soon enough our bodies will realize this and Fade. We’ll be joining the others soon, Alfred.” A tear fell down his face._

_“No! No, this can’t happen. I won’t let this happen to you! I can’t lose you two too!” His voice had escalated from normal to a rough scream. He’d already lost his friends, his allies, and his people. He couldn’t live through losing his family too. “I- I can save us all! I can! Just hold on for a little longer! Please!” he begged them, falling to his knees at their feet._

_“I’m sorry, cher, you can’t fix this one. Goodbye.”_

_They smiled when they Faded._

\-----

Alfred woke up screaming, hands pulling at hair and fabric, trying to grasp on to anything he could. Remind himself that he was here and that he wasn’t reliving their final goodbyes once again. 

He brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his hands around his legs and bowing his head, sobbing. “I could have saved you both,” he whispered. “I could have saved everyone. I just needed a little more time and I could have done it...”

“America!” someone yelled, bursting through the door to his unit. “Are you alright?”

“I could have saved them!” he screeched, never changing his position. “I could have saved them all! This didn’t need to fucking happen!”

The person walked closer, lightly resting a hand on his shoulder for just a moment. As soon as they made contact with his skin, he recoiled like he had been burned. “Do not touch me!”

They backed up, retreating to the doorway when they saw the look in his eyes. Wild.

Alfred curled back in on himself. “Please,” he choked out, “Please go. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to leave me like they did, too.”

The other person looked conflicted for a minute, before finally deciding to keep watch outside until the personification calmed down enough to be okay again.

“Don’t worry, America. I won’t leave you.”

——–

Alfred walked out of the dark room a few hours later, hair still disheveled and eyes dark and downcast. 

“America, are you alright?” Phi, a boy about his age asked him. 

“I’m alright, Phi. I’m… I’m sorry if I scared you last night.” He brought a hand up, rubbing his arm self-consciously.

“No, it’s fine. I know you’ve been through more than I could ever imagine. Just,” he laid a hand on Alfred’s shoulder, “Don’t blame yourself for what happened. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it.” He smiled, and America smiled back. But it was made of glass. I may not have been able to prevent what happened, but I could have made it so it didn’t have to end the way it did.

“Well, if that’s settled,” he started, snapping out of his stupor, “Where can a nation get some coffee around here?”

“Coffee’s gone, chief,” Phi told him. “It’s ‘most ten in the morning.”

“What?” Alfred gasped dramatically. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“Ah, figured you could use some sleep. Sounded like a rough night.”

Alfred laughed nervously. “It was. Nightmares, you know?”

Phi smiled again. “Believe me, I know. Sometimes I dream that I’m stuck in a tiny box that just,” he held his hands close together, emphasizing his point, “Keeps. Getting. Smaller. And I don’t wake up until it crushes me.”

“Sounds intense.”

“Totally is dude.”

The two walked out of the building they were in. The sun was dim through the perminent haze that had settled itself over the earth after the Thermonuclear Storm ravaged it.

The land was tinted blue. There no grass left, but a spongy, dark blue plant of some kind that resembled moss blanketed the ground instead. The sky was a shade of brown similar to beige, that lightened where the sun shone ever brightly. There was a circle of buildings, all with their doors facing a center square with a stage in the middle and an announcement board off to one side.

There were a few people milling about, some talking, some waiting for others, some looking for new things posted on the board. When he walked out, people’s heads turned and everyone in the square came to greet him.

“We heard what happened, America,” a voice called from the small assembled crowd.

“Are you gonna make an announcement about it today?”

“That’s a good question, dude,” Phi mumbled to him. He was standing behind him, so he was shadowed off from everyone and partially hidden.

Alfred addressed the crowd when he spoke. “Yes, I am going to announce it before sundown today along with the rest of the announcements. It’ll be broadcasted over the Station, but I will also be giving a speech here just after dark.

"If anyone wishes to join me tonight, I’ll be sitting vigil for the fall of the Canadian Provincial Democracy. We’ll light the plaza with red and white in memory, as we did with everyone before him.”

People nodded, and the crowd dispersed once again. “You know,” Phi started, moving around him and making eye contact, “You make quite the leader. Why didn’t you lead before all this?”

“It wasn’t that easy,” Alfred looked up, searching for a break in the never ending cloud of dust. “I would have if I could, but my people didn’t even know that I existed until the thirties when everything went to hell and the president tried to blame me for what happened. Luckily for me, you all didn’t believe him and I came to lead what was left of society once it happened.”

Phi followed his gaze, clear green eyes open wide. “You know,” Alfred said after a time, “You remind me quite a lot of someone I used to know.”

“Really?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

“Yep. A long, long time ago. His name was Davie. He liked flowers. Blue ones from England.”

“Davie, huh?” he repeated. “I like it.”


	3. Beautiful Times

_"I call this meeting to order." The command fell on deaf ears. No one was listening. They didn't have the energy to._

_"If I may be frank, Germany, I don't think that I can keep up with a meeting right now," China said, rubbing his face tiredly. "I can feel myself going. There's too many people in my country and not enough space. Everyone is in a panic and so am I."_

_"I move that we all just take a day off to rest," Canada called from his chair beside his brother._

_"I actually agree with him," America added. "There's just too much going on, and we all know that the only reason we still hold these meetings is because we need something familiar and constant so none of us go completely insane like," he paused, "Japan did. I like to see my friends and my family just as much as everyone else, so I think that we could all use a break for a day."_

_The German sighed, but nodded in resignation. "Ja, I suppose that a rest would be nice."_

_Alfred looked to China, who was now resting his head on the table. "Hey, China. You good?"_

_"No, America. I am not."_

_"Figured." He averted his eyes, looking at his hands clasped on the table. Then, he spoke with a small voice that didn't belong to him. "Is Kiku... still..."_

_China looked at him, brown eyes glistening. "He's alive, but he's too far gone for it to matter. He'd be better off dead than where he is now. I just don't have it in me to make it that way."_

_"And the rest of your siblings?"_

_He shook his head. "They're either gone or I've lost contact with them. I don't think that any of them are still alive."_

_The American dropped his head, falling silent for a moment of respect. "I'm sorry to hear that."_

_"Aren't you forgetting someone?" Yao lifted his head. "Someone close?"_

_"You speak of Russia, don't you?" Alfred shook his head forlornly. "I've heard rumors about him. What do you know?"_

_"I've spoken with him recently; he seems to be faring far better than I am."_

_"I guess there's hope for a new world yet, then."_

\------------

"Dee! We're heading out on a search mission tonight!" he called into the dark hallway, knowing that she would hear him. "Pack enough for two weeks of travel because we're heading north-east."

He waltzed into her room, finding her still asleep on the mat on the floor. "Hey-ey, Dee! Wake up there's pancakes for breakfast in the mess hall today and you're gonna miss it!"

At the mention of food, she shot up, dark brown hair sticking up in every direction. "There's pancakes?! I ain't seen those in 'most a year!"

She stood up and made for the door, but was stopped by an arm around her stomach. She looked at him in confusion. "What are you waitin' for? Quit dawdling, America!"

"I would, but you're not wearing any pants, love." Dee looked down at herself and huffed, making Alfred laugh.

"Whatever," she said, "Pants are overrated anyways."

"Yeah, but the dust in the air is still radioactive and will fuck up your pretty dark skin something awful." She shrugged, pulling on a pair of black jeans, checking and making sure there were no holes in them, then pulling on a pair of boots, lacing them up and tucking the laces into the top rather than tie them.

"Alright, now can we go?" she asked him impatiently.

He smiled at her. "Yep! Let's do this now because I need some coffee today since I didn't get any at all last week." 

The duo took off, racing each other to the long building on the other side of the plaza. "Yo, Phi!" Alfred called as he neared. Both he and Dee skid to a stop in front of the other, spraying him with dirt and pebbles.

Phi let out a high-pitched exclaimation of surprise, stumbling back and blocking the debris from hitting his face. "Why d'you have to run like that all over the place all the damn time?" he grumbled at them in annoyance. 

"Why not?"

"Because some of us are normal human beings who don't have the energy of the entire sun as soon as they wake up."

"Well, luckily for me I'm not human. But I don't wake up with that much energy. She does." America jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the girl who was standing behind him, and she nodded sincerely. 

"I sure do."

"I just look forward to breakfast so much that it seems like I have energy to spare."

"I feel ya, brother." Phi turned and strode into the mess hall, Alfred and Dee following. 

Before he was all the way into the building, Alfred stopped, hand resting on the door frame. He gazed over his shoulder at the partly cloudy sky.

I have hope, and that's all I'll need to get through this. These are beautiful times, and the light will come back soon enough.


	4. Cold War Transmissions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon my Russian in this

_Alfred pulled the fur-trimmed hood off of his head, gloved hands brushing golden hair. He kept his goggles on, for fear of his eyes getting frozen or exposed to unfiltered radiation and becoming damaged even more than they already were._

_Before him, tucked into the frozen white tundra, was the dark gray entrance to the last bunker in Siberia. The one he knew his last hope was in._

_He trudged through the snow, leading his squad of survivalists and snipers up to the door. He motioned them around him, guns at the ready just in case._

_Quickly, he put in the code that Russia had sent him, the resounding 'beep' telling him that it had worked. He stepped inside, his people following closely behind, alert for any signs of hostility._

_The door shut behind them, leaving the only light coming from their flashlights and the flickering lights on the cieling high above them._

_He motioned to his team once again, this time telling them all to take off their masks and goggles._

_"Why can't we hear anyone, sir?" someone asked him through the darkness, voice bouncing off of the empty concrete walls._

_Alfred paused before he spoke, listening to the echos. "I don't know. I was told that there'd be people to expect very near the door. I just hope something terrible hasn't happened since we've last spoken."_

_They proceded down the narrow walkway, which soon let out into a large, open area filled with beds and-_

_"Everyone put your masks back on! Now!" He threw his arms up, blocking their path, and pushed them all back into the dark hallway. Everyone complied, more worried at what he had seen than what would be endangering their air supply. "Stay here."_

_He walked forward cautiously, stepping between the lumps of sheets and beds. "Somethin' terrible happened here, boss."_

_Alfred whirled around. "I thought I told you all to stay there!"_

_"But sir, we can't just let you walk into this with no back up!"_

_"And we want to know what's happened just as much as you do."_

_Alfred frowned, but sighed in resignation. "Alright, but keep close to me."_

_The group proceded once more. As they delved deeper into the room, piles of sheets became piles of half-decomposed bodies and puddles of water became puddles of yellowish liquid._

_"Russia!" he called through the room, earning himself a few looks. He ignored them, stepping faster through the carnage. "Russia! Are you still here?"_

_"America?" A whisper._

_"Vanya?" he called to the lifeless room frantically. "Vanya, lubov, gdye vie?!"_

_"Zdies..."_

_He followed the voice, calling things out at random and following sounds of the replies._

_America found him hunched over in the far corner of the room, blood driping from his mouth and through his coat where his heart should be. He offered a weak smile. "So you came after all."_

_Alfred smiled, leaning forward to touch their heads together. "Of course I came. As far as I know, it's only you, me, and Mattie left. I was hoping we could bring the rest of your people back with us; we could work together and-"_

_"Fedya," he cut him off. Alfred turned a sheepish smile at him, and all he could offer in return was a sorrowful one of his own. "Fedya, you know that I'm not going to make it past this, don't you?"_

_The American stared blankly at him. Denial._

_"No," he shook his head, "You'll make it. We'll bring whoever's left with us! We have medical, supervisions, anything you could ask for!" His voice took on a pleading tone. "Just stay with me for a while, okay?"_

_The smile never left Ivan's face. He brought a shaky hand up to brush against the other's tear-streaked cheek. "I, the Russian Federation, hereby surrender all of my lands, people, funds, and otherwise to the empire of the United States of America."_

_Alfred's blue eyes looked frantic. "No, no no nonono! Vanya you can't do this you'll die!"_

_"Effective immediately," he finished, his voice hoarse. "I don't want to burden you, Fedya, but if someone is going to make it through this, it's going to be the world's Golden Boy, no?"_

_"Vanya..." America collapsed into sobs, burying his face in the other's still present scarf and wrapping his arms around his neck._

_"Ya tebya lyublyu, Fedya."_

_"Tebya lyublyu tozhe, Vanya."_

\--------

Alfred gazed out the window of the truck, toying with the end of his scarf idly. "Hey," he offered to the empty space, "Could we listen to an old recording of mine?"

"Feeling nostalgic, America?" Dean teased him, nudging his shoulder with his elbow. 

"Yeah, a little," he laughed softly, but it sounded more like a sigh. He pulled out a CD case from his bag, flipping through it and selecting a blank disk, the only markings being a small flower drawn on one side in perminent marker. 

He slid it in and turned the volume up just enough so they could listen comfortably. A voice came over the radio, so familiar and so foreign to him, all at the same time. Someone's voice that he had almost forgotten, yet could never forget.

"This is Russian radio here. Our next song is dedicated to a friend of mine, and I hope they're listening."

"What is this?" Dee asked from the back seat. "I don't recognize any of the words."

"It's Russian. And old friend of mine used to run a radio station for a while there that I'd tune in to. We had a running game of codes, and whoever could crack the other's would win."

"Was this a Russian, or the Russian?"

"The..."

"And the other countries didn't think that your whole relationship during the Cold war was just you two violently flirting or something?"

Alfred chuckled. "No, they were too worried about nuclear fallout for that. Honestly I don't even think we realized that that's what it was until about 2021 or so when we actually got together as formal allies. Although I should have known; we've been very close for as long as I can remember."

"So you had the hots for this guy for, what, three hundred years? Geez, dude. Sounds like you were pinin'."

"I totally was. And so what? He was attractive as all hell. And just listen to his voice!" Alfred silenced himself, pointedly listening to the speaker on the radio before continuing. "Made me melt like nothing else."

Dee tapped his shoulder to get his attention again. "Got any left over pictures of him?"

"Sure do," Alfred sang, pulling out an old leather wallet filled with nothing but pictures of his past friends and family. He sifted through them, finding just the right one, and handed it to Dee.

Pictured was him and the Russian, both laying on a white sand beach somewhere nice and warm, with tropical flowers woven tightly together into crowns. Alfred was shirtless while Ivan was wearing a dark blue swim shirt that covered the scars on his neck that he was always self-conscious of.

Next he handed her one of just Russia, this time bent over the eyepiece of a telescope, one hand adjusting the sight and another the angle. He was wearing the scarf that Alfred had on now, the last one his sister had made him before she had gone, and a black sweater that made him blend in with the dark field and sky in the background.

"He was always so happy whenever we were together. It was kinda gross how clingy we were. He got lonely easily and I was jealous. We'd take months-long vacations without telling anyone where we went, to the most beautiful and warmest places we could find. We'd gaze at the stars at night and point out as many star systems and constellations as we could see, and we always made sure to stand outside and wave at the ISS as it went by..."

Dee smiled warmly as she handed the pictures back to him. "It sounds like you two had a lot of fond memories with each other."

Dean piped up from the drivers seat once again. "Did you mention ISS? As in the International Space Station?" 

Alfred nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"What ever happened to them? Did we ever send anything up to collect the people out there?"

"No, we never did. When shit started to go down, I, along with the then current director of NASA and a Russian representative for their program, went to Congress to ask for permission to send an emergency mission up there to retrieve those astronauts and the research data that they'd gathered. Congress refused, and every last one of them up there died. Most of them went insane and threw themselved into space with no suits. The last few starved. And I had to feel every last one of them die.

"But that's long since passed. We stopped recieving signal from them long ago."

"Wow. Harsh, America. I don't have any idea what that must have felt like."

Alfred shrugged it off, cocky grin returning to his face. "Enough of that sad stuff. Geez, this is really bumming me out. Let's stop soon to look around, okay?"

Dean nodded an affirmative. "There's an unchecked city nearby here, and then not too terribly long after that is Sec 5, if you wanted to go there and check everything out."

America leaned back in his seat, hooded eyes gazing out the window at the beige sky once more, resuming his incessant toying with his scarf. "Sounds good."


	5. Handlebars

_"Don't tell me that I can't achieve this! I can do anything! Anything that I set my mind to is done, regardless of the fact that the rest of you declare it impossible." he shouted to the assembled people. "You all know what I've been capable of! I landed on the moon, created the first nuclear weapons, created the internet, beat the world's greatest empire when I was a fucking child. I have everything that you all wish you could some day aquire! And you only know the half of it!"_

_"America, calm down! There's no need to get hysterical over this!"_

_Alfred whirled around, eyes dark and pupils dilated. "You have no idea what I've done to get to this point. I own the world now; there's peace, there's happiness, there's true equality for everyone. What else could anyone want?"_

_"Maybe they just want their freedom. You of all people should know how that feels, America." England's tone was almost dismissive, but the fire in his gaze and the grimace on his face proved otherwise._

_"Don't you dare turn this back around on me!" he screeched, raising his hand to strike the englishman. Canada rushed in between them, grabbing his brothers wrist tightly and holding his glare._

_"Alfred, snap out of it. This isn't something that you want to do. You're not a tyranny, don't start acting like it now."_

_Alfred's heated gaze slowly cooled, and he relaxed his shoulders, letting his hand drop to his side. He brought his other hand up to rub his temple agitatedly._

_"Look," he addressed the room, "I came here to offer one last chance to the rest of you. You can join my empire, or my boss is going to obliterate you. No questions, no negotiations. When I leave here today, I leave with the list of countries that oppose me and their coordinates get plugged into the launch code sources. I don't want to be the reason you all die, but I don't have any more choices. So, who'll it be?"_

_England glared at him. "I don't think I could ever stoop so low as to bow to someone like you, America. I'd rather go to war again." He stormed out of the room, fists clenched, and didn't look back._

_"Would anyone else like to join him?" Alfred gazed around the room expectantly. Prussia stepped up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder._

_"Boy, we've been through a lot together, and we are friends, but I can't let my family fall to you. You're going to have to take us by force." Alfred stared at him in anguish, frown tugging at the edges of his lips._

_"I really don't want to do this to you, Prussia. Please, join me, and I'll make sure everyone is happy."_

_Gilbert looked down at the floor and left the room quietly, Hungary and Germany following, both helping a weak Austria limp out with them._

_"That's a shame," Matthew muttered to him when they were all out of the room, "Austria could really have benefitted from your help."_

_"I know, Mattie. They all could have."_

\--------

Alfred stepped into the square of Sec 5, holstering his gun and pulling off his goggles. The layouts of the Secs are all the same, so he knew exactly where people would be gathered. He studied the building entrances curiously.

"There's no one out here," Dean commented, voicing his thoughts exactly.

"And it's really, really quiet," Dee added.

Suddenly, Alfred tensed, taking a few steps back and pushing the two humans behind one of the buildings. "Put your masks on," he hissed. This feels familiar...

He saw a door crack open on the other side of the area, and a woman popped her head out. She looked around skittishly, then darted across at a dead sprint, throwing herself into the  waiting doors of the building next to the one they were pressing themselves against.

"What was she doing?" Dee whispered through the mask over her face.

"I don't know," Alfred returned. "I'm going to go check it out. You two go back to the truck. If I'm not back out in half an hour you go back to Sec 2 and report to Dante what's happened, okay?"

"America, we're not leaving you here by yourself!" Dean challenged, stepping up to his side. 

"Dean, listen to me! I can survive anyting that they throw at me, and I can teleport to anywhere within my territory. I'll be fine. You wouldn't." Alfred nodded at them and turned away, effectively ending the conversation and dismissing them.

He walked out into the square, looking around for the main building. When he spotted it, he jogged over to the doors, leaning close and knocking as loud as he could. 

The door cracked open and he was pulled roughly inside, door slamming behind him. The person who pulled him into the building threw him down by the front of his shirt. Alfred hit the ground hard, knocking all of the air out of him and effectively dazing him for half of a second.

"Hey! What's going on over there?" someone called. The person stepped over him to adress the newcomer.

"Someone from outside of the camp came knocking on the door, sir. We don't know this guy. We should get rid of him."

"Nonsense. That's not how we run things in this place, Tony, and you should know that."

"But sir! What if he's infected?"

"Does he look infected to you?" She motioned down at him without looking. "I think it's fine."

Alfred made to sit up, rubbing at the back of his head, which was now throbbing. "Chrysler? That you?"

Chrysler looked down in shock. "America?" She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, embracing him in welcome. "It's good to see you again! Sorry for the rude welcome; there's been some things going on recently."

"What kind of things? Is there some kind of sickness in the Sec?"

Chrysler breathed out slowly through her nose and closed her eyes. "Yes. We've been meaning to contact you at Sec 2 but we've not gotten the chance." She pulled him over to a table with an empty set of chairs near the wall, away from most of the others who were in the room with them.

"You see," she began, "There's been something going around lately. It hasn't actually infected anyone who stays perminantly in the Sec yet, but almost every drifter we've taken in for the last few weeks has had it to some degree."

Alfred leaned over the table, listening intently with his hands clasped under his chin. "What are the symptoms?"

"Well, that's a complicated answer. Mostly, it's been this constant stream of blood coming from their eyes, which all turn completely black." She shuddered involuntarily. "It's like they're some kind of demon pulled straight from hell. There's only been one who's died while they were here, and it was... unsettling, to put it lightly. I was there when it happened."

"Can you tell me what it looked like?" he prompted gently. "This could be a serious problem, and I need to be able to warn everyone as best as I can."

Chrysler nodded slowly, taking a breath. "He just... exploded. That's the best way I can describe it. Blood shot out of his eyes and mouth and seeped through skin with no abraisions like wet fabric. And the blood was dark in color; darker than I'd ever seen it before."

Alfred gently rested a hand on her arm reassuringly. "Chrysler, I know it's hard leading a whole Sec by yourself, especially when you add this to the mix. I can fix this, and none of our people will die like these others did, okay?"

Chrysler nodded uncertainly. "But this is completely new to us. We haven't come across anything like this in any of our records. How are you supposed to whip up a cure in any reasonable amount of time? It's impossible."

"Impossible isn't in my vocabulary, Chrysler. Never has been." He smiled brightly, releiving some of the tension that had formed around them. "I promise."


	6. Say Something

_"Japan?" he called softly into the room. His hands drifted to the pistol tucked into the waistband of his jeans as he stepped further into the room. "Kiku? You awake, buddy?"_

_"Alfred?" The Japanese man launched at him from across the room, falling to his knees in front of him and looking up at him. He tugged on the front of Alfred's shirt over and over, and started chanting his name in time with the repeated tugs. "Alfred, Alfred, Alfred..."_

_America crouched down, making their heads level, and gently took the other's hands away from the fabric they were tangled in. Kiku looked up, too, meeting his eyes evenly. Alfred almost broke down at seeing them; lifeless and dull. Not really seeing anything._

_"Yeah, Kiku, it's me. Alfred." Kiku stopped chanting his name then, and instead started babbling in broken Japanese. Alfred sighed, sitting back and crossing his legs on the floor, never letting go of the other's hands._

_He waited for a little while, just listening to the sound of his close friend's voice as he spoke nonsensically about only he knew what. After some time, Japan quieted, instead opting for rocking slowly, left and right, watching his bangs sway in front of him._

_So, Alfred took his chance to start. "So, Keeks. Have you heard the news?" He attempted a smile. It as soon as he could muster it. "Your prime minister issued an official declariation today." His eyes started to water and he hiccoughed. Kiku looked at him worriedly, leaning closer to touch their cheeks together._

_"Wet?" he asked in confusion when he pulled away again, tilting his head innocently. Alfred nodded, drying his face with the ends of his sleeves._

_"Yes, wet. Because Kiku, you're not a country anymore, and you'll be gone soon. I don't want to have to watch you fade away, too. Like the others did."_

_Japan looked down at the floor. In a quiet voice, he asked, "Hurt?"_

_"Yeah, Keeks. Fading will hurt. Do you want to fade? Or do you want to not wait." Alfred needed permission to do this. No matter how far gone he was, Alfred couldn't just make his desicions for him. He had promised China that much before he succumed to a similar fate._

_Kiku said nothing; just closed his eyes. "Kiku? Say something, Kiku."_

_He nodded once._

_"Now."_

_The word was clear and decisive. It told Alfred more than he had heard from the other in decades._

_And it broke him._

_He openly sobbed, hunching over so that his glasses slipped off of his face and clattered onto the floor. Japan buried his hands in his hair, pulling his face up so he could see it, then pressed their foreheads together in a calming gesture. It was something that America had told him a long time ago on a late, drunken night._

_"Okay... Okay?"_

_"Okay."_

_Alfred stood, pulling the gun out of his waistband and holding it shakily in his hand. He looked one more time at his friend, his ally, his fellow nation. "Are you sure you want this?"_

_Kiku nodded, never standing. "Yes."_

_America steadied his hands, aimed, and-_

_Fired._

\---------

Alfred appeared in the middle of the square in Sec two, not stopping in his quick strides. "Get me Dante," he called to a group of kids near where he had appeared. A few of them nodded and they took off to one of the smaller buildings that didn't touch the open courtyard area. 

He stepped through the double-doors of the meeting building, heading straight to his personal library where he kept most of the important records that their country needed. 

He grabbed a folder, then moved back into the main area where Dante, his second, was waiting for him.

Dante crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself in. "So, America, what do you need?"

"There's something starting. It's worrying me." Alfred slid the folder over the table to him, putting both of his hands on the surface firmly. "Do you remember, way back when we went on the Russian expedition?" 

Dante shook his head. "I wasn't allowed to go on those, remember? I was bedridden for a few weeks while that was going on." He started sifting through the documents, spreading them out over the table for easy access.

"What about when we went to collect the surviving people from what was left of Japan?" Dante nodded. "Do you remember the people there? And how they went insane from a sickness that had spread at far too rapid a pace to be cured in time?"

"What are you getting at here, America?" he questioned exasperatedly. "I don't have the energy for playing games with you."

Alfred moved back, just a little, in disgust, but brushed it off. It's just stress, probably, he thought, justifying it. His expression darkened nonetheless. "What I'm trying to say is that there's been reports from other Secs of people with similar symptoms to those people. It took over Japan, it took over Russia; who knows where else it's gotten to."

Dante shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I think you're just over reacting, America."

Alfred sputtered. "What?" was all he could manage.

"Well, you're young and it's common for people who are young like you to over exaggerate sometimes." Dante turned to leave, but before he could reach the door he was shoved roughly against the wall.

"I am not young," Alfred growled lowly, pressing a medium sized dagger against his second's throat. "I've been through more than you could ever imagine in your sickest fantasies." Alfred took a step back, breathing slowly and fixing his gaze on the ground. "If you do not take this seriously, I will be forced to remove you from your position. Do you understand?"

Dante swallowed fearfully, rubbing his throat. Alfred's blade nicked him, and now there was the slightest trickle of blood running down his skin. "America, there's no need for violence," he started, then his voice faltered before he could continue.

"Now if we can continue, Dante, I would like for a few things to be agreed upon before we leave here today. Bring in Jeager and call up the heads of the Secs. We're going to discuss this with them as well."

Dante nodded and left, moving at a faster pace than he really needed to. Alfred awaited his return, rearranging the documents so they were more organized and easier to read.

Soon, Dante walked back into the room, followed by a girl about fifteen years old. "Thanks for coming in, Beth." She nodded to him and started setting up the pieces of the machine.

There were eighteen pods, each one displaying the leader of each of the eighteen other Secs that made up what was left of the once-empire. She set them all up in a half circle, and put a microphone sensor in the center of them.

"Can everyone hear me?" Alfred asked once she had finished and everyone was present. They all nodded. 

"We haven't had an emergency conference like this for a long time, America," Mercy, leader of Sec 12 observed, "What brings this on?"

"We have confirmed sightings of people in the area who have contacted the Honda-0 virus."

A shared sharp intake of breath was heard, and hushed murmuring followed. 

"Where were these sightings, America? Who should be most worried?" Gordon, Sec 9, sounded concerned. "I want to keep my people as safe as possible, but I don't want to worry them unnecesarily if I don't have to."

Alfred nodded to him. "I understand your concern. But, if one Sec has encountered it then we all are at risk. Precautions need to be taken no matter where you are, geographically."

"So what are we going to do about this?"

"I need our medics and researchers working on at least a vaccine. I need a cure as soon as possible. Do not announce anything to the general populus, other than that they need to be wary of drifters, and that if they start showing symptoms of being sick they need to report to the nearest med bay as soon as possible. I'll be announcing this myself in the announcements tonight. But until then, stay safe everyone. I'm counting on you all to make sure this passes by smoothly, okay?"

One by one, everyone signed off, Alfred making sure all of their questions were answered before they left. Soon, it was just him and Dante remaining once again. "So, you think we can actually pull off what no other country could?"

Alfred smirked. "Dante, my entire history is doing what no one else could, or would dare to do. We'll be fine."


	7. The War Was in Color

_"The Soviet Union took my brother away after the end of World War Two, and here you are doing the same thing after World War Three. History repeated itself, didn't it?" Germany slumped over onto the table, defeated. "We were allies, America. We have been for a long time. And you and my brother, you were good friends. My only question is how could you have done something like this to me, to him, after all we've been through?"_

_"You of all people should know that the actions of my administration are not an accurate depiction of my or my people's wants, needs, and ambitions, Germany," he spat back angrily. He didn't mean to be short with him, but he knew that if he didn't keep this as strictly-business as possible that he wouldn't make it through the rest of the meeting._

_"What's happened to you, Alfred? You used to be so expressive and full of life and emotion. Where did all of that empathy go?"_

_Ludwig looked at him then, and truly saw. Not what Alfred put on display for everyone else, but straight to his core; seeing his secrets and long-abandon emotion. And his eyes were those of a lost man. "It's still there, isn't it, Alfred. You can still feel things like you used to. You've just gotten better at hiding it." His voice sounded distant._

_"So what if I do, Ludwig. You've done this before; been forced to hurt your friends and family and killed too many innocent people in someone else's name. Was it a good feeling? Did you feel accomplished when it happened?" Alfred's voice began rising in volume, sounding almost manic as he continued, "Could you sit there and listen to their screams, their agony, and smile through it all, high off of some kind of euphoria? Because if you tell me that you could then you deserve to join them."_

_"I'm not saying that."_

_"Then what are you saying, Ludwig? What is the message that I'm supposed to be getting?" Alfred's tone was short and frustrated, showing through his calmer facade._

_Germany rose to be eye level with the American Empire. "I'm saying that this didn't work once, and it won't work again. You may win the war, but you'll fall all the same. And all of this affects people more than you'll ever know, because you always get what you want, then act like your actions don't have consequences. People have wills of their own that are too strong and too different to be held under a single ideology." They looked each other in the eyes, both shades of blue clashing softly. "Your repercussions will come in due time, America. But I will not be here to witness it."_

_America paused, coming back into himself slightly and eyes narrowing. "Germany, what are you saying?"_

_The German let out a low chuckle. "My brother is gone, my family is gone, and my people are gone." He stood, leaving the room through the door near the opposite corner of the room, pausing in the doorway to say, "And I'm going to see them again." Then he disappeared around the corner. America followed him out._

_"Germany, where are you going? Isn't the exit the other way?"_

_He said nothing, just kept walking. At the end of the hallway, he stopped in front of the last door, his hand on the knob. "Alfred," he said._

_"Yes?" he responded tentatively._

_"Why did you follow me here?" Ludwig still faced the door, so his voice sounded slightly muffled._

_"I don't know, Ludwig. Why wouldn't I? I was close with your family and your people, too. Maybe I wanted to see what you meant."_

_Ludwig sighed shortly, then stepped through the door, not bothering to close it behind him. A breeze pushed it open even further, and something clicked within the American._

_He's going to see them again._

_He's going to jump._

_Alfred broke into a run, throwing himself through the door and onto the roof of the conference building. "Ludwig, what do you think you're doing?"_

_The German stood on the very edge of the roof, facing out. He turned to face him, wind tossing his short hair into his face. "I have already told you; my brother is gone, my family is gone, and my people are gone. I'm just going to see them again."_

_"Ludwig, don't do this. There's still more for you in this life, don't leave it now," he pleaded, shuffling a couple steps closer with his hands outstretched._

_Germany met his eyes once more, and they were hollow and dead. Just like his voice. "No, Alfred, there isn't. I've had my time, fought my battles, conquered my enemies; that's all I ever needed to do. These are new times, and I'm done trying to keep up with them._

_"But don't worry. I have the feeling that I'll be seeing you again soon," he finished, the smallest bit of a smile ghosting onto his face. He leaned backwards, off of the edge, and spread his arms out, welcoming whatever was to come next._

_Alfred dove to the edge, trying to grab at his hands, his jacket, anything that he could get a hold of. But he had no such luck. All he could do was watch as his ally hit the pavement below, a sick cracking sound echoing off of the nearby buildings. The ground around his body was already starting to color with the other's blood, and he almost threw up. He brought his hands up to his mouth shakily._

_"What have I done?"_

\---------

-Some few weeks after the Emergency Conference-

America found himself standing on top of an old, run-down but still stable conference building, gazing out over the destroyed buildings around him. The wind whipped at his hair and his jacket, and dust started clouding his glasses.

"I really wish you were still here, Germany. I could really use your help with this. You always were so good at everything," he whispered into the wind, imagining the words getting carried to wherever countries went when they died. He took his glasses off and cleared the lenses with the hem of his shirt. He took another step closer to the edge, looking down it's sheer face and to the ground where the concrete was still stained a dull, dark red. 

Alfred turned, heading back into the building and descending the stairs. He touched his fingertips to the walls as he went, dragging them up and down the faded gray wallpaper and tracing patterns on their ancient surfaces.

When he got back outside, he searched around the base of the building until he found the spot that he had seen from the roof, and laid on the ground next to it, folding his hands over his chest. "Do you remember when we'd get into dog fights, and it would be just me, you, and the sky? When we both thought that we were doing the right thing, even though neither of us was? But we were so, so sure that it was right. Did you know that I'm not so sure that what I did was right anymore?" He let out a choked laugh, covering up a sob, and wiped at his eyes before he continued. "And by God I wish you were here now. If for nothing else than just to talk like we used to, then so be it. I just... I can't do this alone anymore, Lud. It's getting harder, and now there's a whole new enemy to fight."

He stopped, and instead opted for staring at the beige sky as though it would answer his pleas. "Hey, Lud. Do you remember when they sky was blue, like our eyes? I wonder if it still is, above the cloud. I wish we could fly up there and find out. Like we used to be able to."

His communicator on his belt buzzed, breaking his peaceful monologue. His hand fumbled around the latch for a second before undoing it, and brought the device up to his ear. "America speaking."

"We need you to come back to the Sec as soon as absolutely possible." The voice on the other side was filled with urgency. Alfred sat up, concern creasing his features. 

"What's going on?"

"Someone's gotten the Honda-0 virus."

"Well that's not all that bad. Just get them sectioned off in the Med area and have the doctors take a look at it." They can handle themselves. This isn't the first one, he thought, and relaxed a bit.

"No, you don't understand. It's in the late stages; they've gone completely out of it. And since no one had cought them sooner they've set fire to the Med bays." The person's voice was getting increasingly more panicked with the more information that they relayed to him.

"What? How did they get access to something capable of burning down the damn Med bay?"

"Sir, we don't know, but this needs to be taken care of immediately!"

Alfred shot to his feet, porting to the center of the Sec and looking around wildly, trying to figure out where Dante was.

When he spotted him, he started running over to him, calling his name. "Dante!" he said, "What's going on? Why didn't you call me about this?!"

"We don't need you, it's just a fire. We already have it under control." He motioned to the smoldering remains of the building, with only small flames here and there.

"That's not what I meant!" he screamed. "The fucking Med bay is down now! We're in the middle of a god damn sickness outbreak and that is our most valuable building! And now it's gone!" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "What's our casualty count?"

"Two of our four doctors are out of commission until further notice, and the person who started the fire died in the blast."

"Blast?"

"The person who started it started it with an explosive," he said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to his other foot.

"An explosive... Who started it, then? Was it Miami?"

"We're thinking so. She'd be the only one who knew how to do that kind of thing here, other than maybe me, you, Jeager and Rachel."

Alfred swore under his breath and took a step back, running a hand through his hair. "What are we supposed to do about this now? Are we going to move all of the medical cases to HQ?"

"We can, if that's what you think would be best. Just God forbid we see another case of this until we can get this built back up again."

"Knock on fucking wood, Dante. Knock on wood." He was silent for a moment, trying to think ahead as to what would be the best thing to do next. "But I think we'll get past this. We'll just have to send all of our cases either to a temporary setup in HQ or over to Sec 1, since they're the closest. And we'll need to bring in carpenters and all that to rebuild this building again. Think you could get on that for me?"

Dante nodded and took his leave, leaving Alfred to his own devices.

Phi came up behind him, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. "So, looks like you made it quickly. I take it Dante caught you up to speed?"

"Seems like it. Don't worry too much about it, though. Nothing like this'll happen again."

Phi nodded and his shoulders slumped, a breath escaping him. "You really think so?"

Alfred shrugged a shoulder in an attempt to appear nonchalant. "Yea, totally. Why wouldn't we? I mean, it's already happened once so now we know how to avoid it next time." He smiled brightly, and Phi returned it.

"Good."

They stood in relative quiet. Alfred moved his gaze to the sky again. "Hey Phi, did you know that the sky used to be blue?"

"Really?" A pause. "What brings that up?"

"Nothing, really. I was just thinking about how there used to be so much color in the world, before the war. And you know what the saddest part is?"

"What?"

"It may have been the very last thing to be, but the war was in color."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This song fucks me up dudes


	8. Even if that is your happiness

_Alfred rolled his head lazily to the side, fixing his gaze on the dusty old bookshelves, once used for holding vast amounts of knowledge, and now it was just for display. No one read the old pages anymore, but Alfred had memorized every last one from years upon years of doing nothing but reading and learning from them._

_"America, are you even paying attention?" his boss snapped at him angrily. He moved to sit up straighter in his chair, appearing more attentive. He fiddled with a small necklace in his hands, imagining the pictures of his brother and his lover on each side of the inside of the light blue locket._

_"Yes, sir," he replied, not bothering to try to hide the boredom in his voice._

_"America, this is very important. These are our plans for the next five years, and it is imperative that..." Alfred let the other man's voice fade into the background. He had heard this same speech countless times before from the new elects every time they first met with him. He wasn't interested in listening to it again._

_"Sir, with all due respect," he cut him off, "I've already heard this exact speech before. So if we could skip this and get to the point that would be great. I have meetings that I need to attend today."_

_His boss looked so afronted that it was all that Alfred could do not to laugh. "Boy, you've been around too many women in a position of power and it's made you disrespectful." He took a threatening step forward. "I think I'm just going to have to fix that." He brought his hand up, swinging it down and hitting the nation with the back of it._

_Alfred's head whipped to the side, a familiar blankness filling his eyes. Another abusive boss. He hadn't had one of those in a very long time. And there wasn't anything that he could do about it while the man still had the approval of the people. Alfred glared up at him defiantly. "Do your worst. But bear in mind that anything you could do I've already done ten times worse. And as soon as you're without the power of the people I won't hesitate to return the favor."_

_"Are you trying to intimidate me?" his boss snarled, his tone dismissive. But Alfred noticed how he flinched and angled himself back just barely enough to catch. Noticed how the floorboards moved when his weight shifted. And most of all noticed how the look of self ritousness fell from his features. "Because it won't work. You have none of the power here."_

_"Oh, I'm sure," his words dripped with blatent sarcasm._

_Another hit, harder than the last. He grit his teeth against it, but stayed quiet. "Now," his bost growled, "If you're done, we have plans that need to be discussed. We're ending this fighting soon enough. It's time to stop playing and start taking real action."_

_Alfred's heart fell and he felt cold. He swallowed thickly. "Ending the... fighting?"_

_"Yes. It's time that everyone was either with us or against us. No gray space, no neutrality. Join the New World Empire or face a fate of death." He smirked darkly, like an unruly child given permission to play with matches. "It's about time to move away from all of this talking bullshit that the women before me have kept up."_

_His boss looked at him pointedly, and he felt his protest die in his throat. This isn't what we want! a small voice inside of him screamed, trying to claw it's way out of him. This isn't going to help anything! We need to protect, not harm! He fought it back down, shifting his eyes to the floor, resigned. "Yes, sir."_

_His face stung._

_\-------_

_-Several More Weeks Pass-_

Alfred woke from his dead sleep coughing. He brought his blanket up to cover his mouth and muffle the sound so he didn't wake anyone else in the rooms near his. When he pulled the thick fabric away again, he noticed dark spots on it. 

He leaned over and turned on the small lamp next to the bed, grabbing his glasses and fumbling them onto his face blindly. He pulled the blanket up into the pool of yellow light to examine. "Strange," he whispered, touching the spot. It was dark red and damp, eerily resembling, "Blood?"

Alfred scrambled out of the bed, tossing the blanket aside and pulling on a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt, leaving behind his prized bomber jacket. 

He emerged into the open night, dark green sky glowing faintly. Dust kicked up around him, sticking to his slightly damp skin. The wind was cold and it made him begin to shiver. His territories in the north weren't going to help him if there wasn't people up there to experience the chilling weather with him. 

He began walking in the direction of the still-temporary medical area, looking for help, when he heard someone call his name.

"Oh, America, please come here." He recognized that voice. But no, no that wasn't possible. "Alfred?" It carried on the wind, drifting right past him. His skin prickled from more than just the cold.

"No," he whispered to it. "No, I won't. That's not possible. You're not real."

The voice laughed at him, and he shut his eyes tightly. "Alfred Franklin Jones, come here." It had lost its sweet, coaxing tone. Instead, it was now only a command, as though speaking to a dog and not a human being. Alfred whimpered against the use of his whole name, fighting the deeply-seeded, ancient magics pulling him to walk forward. It was a battle that he almost lost, taking a few steps into the wind and towards where the voice would be coming from.

"Good boy," he whispered. An invisible, icy hand brushed over his cheek and into his hair, then disappeared once again. A cold feeling settled in his stomach, and he almost threw up. 

"No! I am not your pet!" he cried into the wind, backing up against the doors of the building he had just exited. "You are dead! I'm still alive! Just leave me alone."

"No, boy. You still belong to me. You always will."

Alfred grabbed his head in his hands, slouching against the rough side of the building for stability. He shook his head side to side, trying to rid his mind of the voice and the memories. And- oh god the memories.

He pulled at his hair and his head snapped up, gazing around wildly. "I have to block this out. He can't touch me anymore. I just gotta..." His eyes locked on the tall metal antenna, black outlined against the green. He took off at a sprint to the radio tower on the far end of the main building, past the almost-finished medical building. When he got to it, he began to climb, never slowing in his pace. 

"If I can just-

Get-

Higher."

When he got as high as he dared, he turned himself around, facing out to the vast, empty lands, dotted every so often with a pod of civilization. He looped his arms around the metal beams, bent at the elbows, and leaned out. The wind whipped his bangs around his face and the dust stung his eyes, but he paid it no mind.

"Alfred..." he whispered once more, then echoed around in his head. 

Tears tracked down his face, and he brought an arm up to wipe them away. His sleeve pulled away darker and damp.

Alfred took a shaky breath, and counted backwards from one hundred.

Ninety-nine...

Ninety-eight...


	9. Welcome to Mystery

_A dark room. Fabric shifts and the floorboards whine as he shifts his wight from one foot to the other. The floor settles once more._

_Silence._

_A light flicks on down the hall, behind a door. Light leaks out through the cracks. He pulls his gun closer._

_He waits._

_The door opens. Someone steps out. The target._

_They walk with a limp. Poor blood flow; a symptom of the radiation. They hold no guilt in their mind for what they've done. No remorse. He hates them for it._

_He readies his gun. He waits._

_Voices crackle through his earpiece softly. They chatter to each other, giving and recieving directions. None of them are for him. Not yet._

_Shadows begin to move in the darkness on the other side of the open door. He would not have noticed had he not been waiting for it. They moved as one. Watching it from his post at the window made it look like a gelatinous monster that haunted his nightmares from time to time._

_He turned away from them, watching the door on the floor below, waiting for the people to emerge._

_Scuffling in the hall behind him. Muffled screams for help. He smiles. Everything is going according to plan. The person who was in the room shut the door quietly. The scuffling hasn't stopped. But no matter; no one here was going to intervene. No one anywhere was._

_The hall behind him was quiet once more. He still didn't look back into its darkness._

_A voice came over the earpiece again. His instructions were relayed to him. Set yourself up in the window. Keep watch and make sure no one interferes._

_A group of people, hidden in thick black clothes, dragged a struggling man out into the small courtyard by his suit jacket. People were gathered to watch as he kicked and screamed. No one stepped forward to help him. No one wanted to. No one dared._

_They shoved him down onto his knees in the middle of it. Someone stepped in front of him and kicked him in the stomach._

_They addressed the rest of the people gathered there, never once looking down at their captive._

_"Here, ladies and gentleman, is one of the last of an almost extinct race." Their voice echoed powerfully through the courtyard. "A purebred Politician. One of true malice and disdain for human life. The man who pulled the trigger that ended everything!"_

_This was being broadcasted over international radio waves. He'd helped to set it up himself. Made sure it all worked. Everyone was tuned in. He wanted them all to hear the screams of Satan himself._

_He readied his gun._

_He waited some more. Until the announcer on the ground was done speaking._

_Three beeps came through the headset. He saw the three other snipers nod to each other and to him. He nodded back._

_Shots rang out. Uniform time. One, Two, Three, then his own. They each buried themselves into the man. The devil creature without a soul._

_None of the shots were instantly lethal. As per their instructions. They wanted to hear his screams. Everyone did._

_And he screamed. Screamed until he tore his throat. Until there was no sound, just an open mouth and blood. More blood pooled on the ground around him._

_Someone laughed. A few people joined. The sound was not joyful. But it was not fearful. It was off. There was something wrong with it. And he loved it._

_He loved it._

_He watched the man die. And relished it in a wicked way._

_He smiled._

\-----

"God, I don't know what's wrong with me. I never get sick." Alfred pressed his palm to his head and closed his eyes, trying to get past the wave of dizziness that overtook him. He laughed to himself a bit. "And now I'm talking to myself alone in a dark room. Maybe I've lost it after all." He was only joking, but he could feel truth behind his own words.

A cough wracked his body, the sound echoing in the emptiness of the dark room. "Go to the infirmary," someone whispered. He froze, not daring to breath. His eyes opened slowly, and he lifted his head just enough to see his surroundings. 

There wasn't anyone there. "Hello?" he called hoarsely, as loudly as his inflamed throat would allow him. No response. His eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. How could he be hearing someone speak to him if there wasn't anyone there? 

The carpet in the room made a sound as though someone was dragging their feet across it. He jerked away from it and further against the wall, covering his head with the blanket. Alfred quivered in fear, starting to chant quietly to himself. 

"Go away go away go away go away..."

He felt something tug at the blanket protecting him, so he gripped onto it tighter and screwed his eyes shut. His efforts were in futility.

The thing pulled the cover off of him, then slowly caressed the side of his face with what felt like the back of its hand, moving up to push his glasses up his nose to their usual spot. But the only person who ever did that was...

"Mattie?" He opened his eyes, fixing them on the figure standing before him. His brother nodded, a soft smile on his face. "B-but Mattie..." he stuttered out. He reached a hand out, making contact with the other's body. It was solid. He was there, bent over Alfred's bed, touching him. Touching him.  And he was just acting like this was a thing that always happened. That would never do for Alfred F Jones.

He practically lunged up from his crouched position, tackling his brother to the floor. They both hit the ground hard, but he paid it no mind. The important thing was that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Mattie! I'm so happy to see you!" He would have laughed his usual booming laugh, had it not been for his fragile voice. "But you were... I watched you die. How are you here?"

Matthew shook his head. He didn't say anything at first, just waiting for a few moments. "It doesn't matter. I'm here for you now. But I must go. Soon I'll come back. Until then, stay strong." He started fading again, violet eyes glowing.

"No! Mattie, Matthew, Canada! You're not leaving me again! Not now!" He grabbed at the front of the other's coat, trying to anchor him down as though that might stop him from leaving. 

"Goodbye, Alfie," he whispered, fading out entirely and leaving the American sitting on his knees on the floor. Alfred blinked a few times, then looked down at his shaking hands still holding the coat. Just like before...

 

He woke up screaming again. He was splayed out on the floor, several things strewn about the room in places they shouldn't be. In his hands he held the old, torn, still-dirty coat of his late brother. 

The room was cold on his fevered skin, and it smelled like something he hadn't seen in years: maple syrup.


	10. Chapter 10

_''I've heard stories," he began, looking at nothing in particular, "Of people going mad and running away into the woods." He looked up at his mother sitting next to him. "Are there really evil spirits there?"_

_"Let me tell you a story then, Ahote, about the Two Wolves of man." She pulled him into her lap, and his brother joined him, curling close together to have enough room. "Everyone has two wolves fighting inside of them. One is evil- he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego."_

_"And madness?" one of the boys asked. She smiled._

_"Yes, and madness. But most of all he is hate and violence. The other, the other is good- he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humanity, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. Most of all he is understanding. The ones who are mad leave in search of the evil wolf, for they fed him and he won and has promised them many wicked things should they find him. And in those woods they perish, taking the evil with them and leaving only the good for the rest of us."_

_"I'll make sure I feed the good one," Ahote said. His statement was followed with a yawn._

_"Yeah..." Matoskah was already starting to nod off. Sani stood, both boys in her arms, and made her way back into their home in their village, putting them to bed without disturbing them._

_"Those boys have not yet grown, Sani," one of the village elders addressed her when she came back out of the animal-skin flaps._

_"I know. They do not look like they will, either."_

_"Do you think they will replace you?" They met each others eyes steadily, both very old and very wise. "With these new White Men invading your lands to the east, your time may very well end."_

_"I have walked these lands for many, many years. Longer than most. If they do, and I die, I want them to do good by me, and by all of you." She looked up to the stars. "Let's just hope I can prepare them enough before my sun sets for the last time."_

\---------

The gloves on his hands were too big, but not enough to warrant getting a new pair. Just enough to make things awkward and uncomfortable while he worked.

Ever since his maybe-encounter with his brother, he's kept himself constantly at work, sometimes helping with research, sometimes organizing recon parties to look for more resources, sometimes just doing things as little as record-keeping. So long as he couldn't think, he didn't care. 

He finished with his task, the last thing he had to do for the day, and stepped down off of the ladder. Alfred pulled the gloves off, tucking them in the band of his tool belt, and turned, looking for the project director. "Anything else I can do?"

"You need to take a break, son. You've been working with me nonstop for almost three weeks now, and I don't even think you're sleeping at night. Go rest." He looked like he was about to object, but the stern look on the man's face silenced that quickly enough.

He departed to his unit, grumbling all the way. Great, now he would have to find something else to do. When he got back, he opened the door and was immediately greeted with someone sitting on his bed, back to the door, crouched over something in their lap.

"Can I help you?" he asked, taking a step into the room. He didn't recognize the person. "Usually if people need me they go to the center building and call."

The person straightened, but didn't turn around. It was a woman, long dark hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. Slowly, she stood and turned to him, still holding something in her hands, and she smiled. Her presence felt old, far older than anyone else he had ever met before. But she didn't look much older than he. 

Then she began to speak, in a tongue he'd thought he'd forgotten. "Ahote, It's been so very long since I've seen you, and I almost cannot believe how you've grown."

He forgot how to breath. Forgot how to move. But he didn't forget how to speak. "Are- are you who I think you are?"

"Yes, my child." She held out her hand, and from it dangled a leather string with a few beads and a feather attached to the end. He recognized the piece immediately.

Somehow, he made it to the other side of the room without having told his body to move. They were the same height, so when their eyes met, they met evenly. Gently, he took the delicate little thing from her. He could feel the heat from her hand, and their skin brushed just for a moment. "You're really here," whispered, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Of course, Ahote. But not for long. I must be leaving again soon." She took his trembling figure into her arms, pulling him close to her chest as she had always done all those years ago. He sobbed into her shoulder, returning the embrace as best he could.

Soon he felt something change. The air in the room no longer felt weighed down with the many years of an ancient, and he was left alone once again. 

In his hand he still held the small ornament, white feather still crisp and clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know Sani is a male name, but it means 'the old one' (navajo), and i believe that she would have been a shape-shifter (i believe they're called skinwalkers? i cant remember), so gender of the name would not have mattered because her gender wouldnt have always remained the same.
> 
> also i tried to keep the names/story/behavior as authentic as i could, but if you see any problems please please please dont be afraid to point it out to me, and i'll correct it.


	11. This is Our Last Song

_He gazed lazily at the sky, feet kicking in the cool water over the edge of the dock. "How far do you think we'll go?" he asked quietly._

_His companion glanced sidelong at him. "What do you mean?"_

_"We've come so far so fast. There's so much we've seen already, but there's multitudes more that we haven't." He rolled onto his side. "Who do you think will see it first?"_

_"I've lived for a very long time, and have seen and discovered everything the world has ever had to offer to us. I can't help but think that you will be the one destined for the stars."_

_"Yeah, well, you're still trying to give me quite the run for my money." He faced the stars once again._

_"Yes, I am. Just because I believe the cosmos are yours to conquer, doesn't mean I won't try to take them from you anyway."_

_"This is a dangerous game you keep playing, big guy."_

_"I know." He smiled cheerfully. "That makes it all the more fun!"_

_He laughed. "Of course. The threat is the thrill, yeah?"_

_"Yes, of course."_

_"You just can't stand to have a child like me be better than the great Mother empire, can you?"_

_He was silent._

_"As I thought." His voice was laced with humor instead of the expected malice._

_They had their quiet, peaceful place of nothing more than meaningless talk, just like they always used to. No fights. That was just for show, just part of the act._

_"Why is it that you love the sky?" he mused. "What is the appeal that the earth and the ocean doesn't have?"_

_"There's no boundaries in the sky. Nothing that you have to fight for, nothing and no one to tell you not to do something. It's as free as free can be."_

_"Free..."_

\-------

The wind that bit at his cheeks was sharp and cold, and it hurt his ears even though they were covered. He wandered around the outskirts of the Sec listlessly. Something in him told him that there was something there, and that he needed to see it. But he didn't know what he was looking for, exactly.

That is, until he saw the slightest flicker of pale fabric around the corner of a building. "Hey!" he called out to them, trying to see who they were. The person popped their head around the corner, looked around, then motioned for him to follow before disappearing around the wall again.

Alfred sprinted in their direction, trying to catch up as quickly as possible. Surely they couldn't get far when matched against his paranormal speed.

When he reached the edge of the building a few seconds later, the person was nowhere in sight. He stepped out into the piles of rubble that used to be a street, looking for the person he had seen. Something about them seemed familiar.

As he was about to give up and write it off as another hallucination, he heard a voice call his name from somewhere behind him. He whirled around, spotting the person again instantly. "Hey, wait!" he called to them, taking off in their direction once again.

The person, to his exasperation, started moving away again, so he followed. Further and further away from where he should be. Where all of his people were, feeling the effects of sickness.

In the span of only a few months, over half of all of his people had gotten sick with the Honda virus. Over half. And that number was only growing as every day went on. No one had yet died from it, but in many cases their mindless blabbering was taking over, and violent, insane tendencies were showing more and more. Several people had to be detained and isolated to make sure they didn't harm themselves or anyone else. And Alfred was feeling every bit of it. With every new case his self-awareness faded and his already weak grip on reality just got weaker.

Nonetheless, he followed this person down an invisible path that only they knew. Eventually, the person he was following stepped into what remained of an old building, no door on the hinges of the still standing doorway. 

A sense of dejavu washed over him as he approached, and he slowed to a cautious walk. He got closer, and peeked over the mostly collapsed wall to see if the person was still there.

The old meeting room bustled with activity. There was his brother, sitting in the exact center of the table, right next to where he would sit. England sat across from him, in a heated conversation with France. China and Japan were muttering to each other quietly at one end of the table, while Germany and Italy listened to Hungary and Prussia retell some old battle tale, probably constantly correcting each other at the other end.

And walking to the front of the room was Russia, beige coat and pale pink scarf firmly in place, as he always had.

He was already in tears by the time he had made it around to the doorway, and he skidded to a halt just inside of the room. 

Slowly, everyone turned to look at him, growing silent. Germany smiled. "You're late again, America."

He sniffed and nodded, a watery smile finding it's way onto his face. "Yeah," he said, "I guess I am, aren't I?"

"You should work on being more punctual, Alfred. I raised you to be a gentleman, after all," came the side remark.

"I don't mind so much!" his Russian accent was thick but cheerful, just as he had remembered it. Russia circled the table and made his way back over to him, stopping close enough to touch him. "As long as he is here, I am happy." He kissed the sunny blond's hair before being pushed aside by an impatient Asian.

"You! I need to have a word with you regarding my dear little brother!" China pointed a finger at him accusingly, and Japan grumbled behind him. Then he looked down at the floor almost shyly. Alfred watched him expectantly. "I... I wanted to thank you. For doing what I couldn't bring myself to. For saving him from an... undesirable fate." The American could tell he was having a hard time keeping himself composed, as could Japan.

As if in an unspoken agreement, the two wrapped the ancient in an embrace, comforting him. "Of course, Yao. It was the decent thing to do, yea?" They broke apart, and you could see tears streak all of their faces. They each nodded quietly, and the two dark haired men stepped away once again.

This time his family stepped up to replace them, sharing all of the pent-up emotions and things that they'd never gotten to say, sobbing on each other's shoulders shamelessly. Soon they were done, and moved aside as well. 

Germany stepped up, his party behind him. All wore bittersweet smiles. "You've been strong, Alfred," Prussia began. "Always have been. You take after me, of course." Gilbert laughed and his brother shook his head. "But I have to say, you put us through quite a rough patch there." 

Alfred looked down guiltily. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

Hungary smacked the Prussia in the back of the head. "Ow! You didn't let me finish!" He switched his attention back to America. "But we forgive you. We all have been through much worse in our lives. And look at us now!" He smiled. "All back together and happy and whatever other mushy bullshit." Alfred laughed with him, the good mood seemingly contagious.

"God I'm just so happy to see you all again!" he addressed everyone as soon as he got a chance. "I didn't think I ever would."

"Alik, we- I, won't ever leave you again. No matter what." Russia whispered, standing close. Alfred threw himself at the Russian's sturdy frame, gripping at whatever fabrics he could get ahold of.

The watery smile and tears returned, and he hid his face against his chest. 

"Thank you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End


End file.
